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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953153">the bullet, pearling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicist/pseuds/sapphicist'>sapphicist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>theres a darkness outside reality [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DreamSMP, Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death, Drabble, Eldritch, Gen, ITS JUST. TALKED ABT, Introspection, No beta we die like jschlatt did, One shot but i will be expanding on this later, THERES NO ACTUAL DEATH BTW, bc hes canonically. dead, except for wilbur, tommy cant die but by god does he want to!, tommyinnit voice I HATE MY DAD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:08:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953153</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicist/pseuds/sapphicist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same<br/>running from something larger than yourself story,<br/>shoving money into the jaws of a suitcase, cutting your hair<br/>with a steak knife at a rest stop,<br/>and you're off, you’re on the run, a fugitive driving away from<br/>something shameful and half-remembered.<br/>They're hurling their bodies down the freeway<br/>to the smell of gasoline,<br/>which is the sound of a voice saying I told you so.<br/>Yes, you did dear.</p><p>- Richard Siken; Driving, not washing</p><p>(https://genius.com/Richard-siken-driving-not-washing-annotated; for the entire poem)</p><p>-</p><p>Tommy is not quite human, and he thinks he might hate his father for that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>theres a darkness outside reality [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the bullet, pearling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>YEAH</p><p>tw// death, dreamsmp, uhhhh the works yaknow</p><p>Disclaimer: this is a story about the DreamSMP character TommyInnit, and not the actual person/streamer.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Here is the truth, from the mouth of a liar--you are not born to your family, but they are family nonetheless, and you are raised at the hand of your father to be wild and curious and free; and you think, now, that it was a cruel choice of him to make, to raise you wild and untrainable, because you've learned, too little, too late, that society expects you to live in chains and boxes and neat white lines. </p><p>You cannot be boxed, no matter how hard you try and squash yourself down. You cannot be chained, no matter how tightly they try and cuff you. You are too large, larger than life, boisterous and so much. Too much, they say. Too much, and you try and make yourself not as much but you can't, and as punishment your best friend forces you out with cries of <em>selfish</em> and <em>liability. </em></p><p>You can't help it--this is how you were born, how you were raised, wild and untameable; and you think your father was cruel, to try and give you the freedom of a childhood. You think your father was cruel, to let you grow and grow and grow. </p><p>The man in green grabs you by the shoulder, and you go. You go, because what else can you do? </p><p>He takes you and a dead man far away, to a place untouched by boxes and chains and neat white lines, and you don't miss them, but you do, you <em>do, </em>you miss them and the people they came with.</p><p>You are so alone. You survive anyway, because you are wild and curious and something a little less than human, and your father was cruel in that he made you a man who refuses to give up and die like you think they expect you to, but you are <em>so alone</em>. You think you might hate him for making you unkillable, and you keep surviving anyway. </p><p>Night falls, and you stare at the empty space between stars and think, <em>humanity was not made for survival.</em></p><p>Despite your best efforts, time passes. The dead man smiles and smiles and smiles, and you want him to stop but you can't make him because both your words and your hands would go right through him. </p><p>(Out of the corner of your eye, the darkness pulses. You stop and you breathe, and you say thank you when the dead man gives you blue. When he flickers out of existence, you close your eyes and send a quick prayer to a god you don't know if you actually believe in that he is as unaware as he actually seems.)</p><p>Time passes. A brother who is not a brother comes to you with taunts and laughter, and the dead man laughs with him because he does not know any better. Eventually, you laugh too--it's not funny, but it could be, and the tears in your eyes are easier to hide when you are shaking with uncontrollable mirth. </p><p>The brother who is not a brother leaves as quickly as he came, and life continues. Day in and day out, you exist and you trudge forward, because you will not die and you hate your father for making you so determined. You think you might be running out of room for hate. You continue hating him anyway.</p><p>You live, you breathe, and you stare into pits of lava and think it is cruel of the Maker to do this to you. Your friends and family and life are chains and boxes and white lines away, and you have never felt more alone. </p><p>The man in green pulls you away from the lava. He smiles when he tells you it's not your time to die yet.</p><p>You look away from him. This place is stifling in its heat, and yet you feel so cold. Irony. Irony, irony, irony. You tell him it's never your time to die, and you do not know where the words come from but suddenly they are there, in your mouth and in your vocal chords and out in the air, and you pray, you <em>pray</em> he does not read the double meaning behind them.</p><p>You look back at the man in green, and find him already staring at you, and you realize belatedly that you could never have been so lucky.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>-</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div class="lyrics"><p>
      <span class="u">But angels are pouring out of the farmland, angels are swarming</span><br/>
<span class="u">over the grassland,</span>
    </p><p>
      <span class="u">Angels rising from their little dens, arms swinging, wings aflutter, </span><br/>
<span class="u">dropping their white-hot bombs of love.</span>
    </p><p>
      <span class="u"><em>We are not dirty</em>, he keeps saying. <em>We are not dirty...</em></span>
    </p><p>
      <span class="u">They want you to love the whole damn world but you won't,</span><br/>
<span class="u">you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in the bath,</span><br/>
<span class="u">who knows what to do with his body, with his hands.</span>
    </p><p>
      <span class="u">It should follow,</span><br/>
<span class="u">you know this, like the panels of a comic strip,</span><br/>
<span class="u">we should be belted in, but you still can't get beyond your skin, </span>
    </p><p>
      <span class="u">and they're trying to drive you into the ground, to see if anything</span><br/>
<span class="u">walks away.</span>
    </p><p>
      <strong>
        <span class="u">- Richard Siken</span>
      </strong>
    </p></div></div><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WOOPS</p></blockquote></div></div>
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